Breakout With Cold Finesse
Roleplaying Log: Breakout With Cold Finesse
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

In which Finesse retaliates against the mob's retaliation against Jade.

Other Characters Referenced: Finesse and Jennifer Hayden
IC Date: March 15, 2019
IC Location: New York City
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 16 Mar 2019 19:10
Rating & Warnings: R
NPC & GM Credits: N/A
Associated Plots

Back in the day, gangsters used to just hit someone in the head. Knock them out, haul them off, they wake up handcuffed to a radiator. Now, with all the metahumans who are out there, the mob's gotten smarter. With the right chemical cocktail many powers can be suppressed or neutralized by disrupting brain patterns.

So Jen Lynn-Hayden, a green-skinned metahuman of absolutely no note whatsoever, wakes up in a cold room with a concrete floor and rebar-backed plywood walls. D-rings on the walls. Drain in the floor. Smell of blood and bleach. "Fffuck," she moans, and rolls to her side with her head clutched in her hands. Dizziness and a fog of uncertainty slow her perception and prevent her from articulating a clear thought or concept. "Wh-whererr am I?" she inquires, rhetorically. The petite woman shivers, hugging her arms. She doesn't have much body fat and her captors took her clothes, leaving her in a lightweight undershirt and athletic compression shorts.

Outside, a guard rises and looks into the cell. He pulls his phone from his pocket and fires off a text message. <the mutie is awake>.

Elsewhere in the 'cannery', a thuggish looking gangster named Mike reads the text. He uplifts his chin to the black-haired man sitting behind an antique wood office desk, lean and predatory as a shark. "Mr. Scatelli. The mutie's awake. You decided what we're gonna do with her?"

Scatelli brushes a bit of imaginary dust from his white suit jacket. "Gonna make an example of her. Get some video for prospective clients. Already getting some nice bids for her," he says, and looks at his web browser. Anonymous bids are coming in regularly as the auction draws to a close. "I won't risk moving her for less than fifty grand. If the bids don't come through, get what you can out of her and then toss her in the chum grinder."

The thuggish fellow grins, a brute and cruel expression, and starts the long walk across the cannery, dodging the 'workers' who give the place a vernee of legitimacy.

The highest anonymous bid, of course, was in BitCoin. And from a user who called themselves 'Perfection'. The dark web was a dangerous place, of course. There, one could buy anything - including a gorgeous half-naked metahuman. One could find anything - including a gorgeous half-naked metahuman. Or, an auction for it.

Someone clever enough could also find the hosting site for that bid with a bid of their own, and track down thereby the IP of the website, and further trace the little details, to put it all together. It didn't take a detecitve of Batman's skills to figure it out. The woman was the same green metahuman who had manifested the fist and prevented directly the assassination several days ago. Police had identified the captured mob members as belonging to the Scatelli family. A quick database search after discovery of the dark web bidding had revealed that a cousin of John Scatelli owned a cannery that had been shut down for years. And the IP address clearly was from somewhere within the city.

She had donned her costume, grabbed her sticks, a burner phone, and left on her motorcycle. Ditching her bike a block away so she wouldn't be heard, Finesse made her way onto the cannery's property, disabling and incapacitating the guard watching the outer door after verifying that there weren't any external cameras active. He never saw it coming.

Finesse checks her burner phone, with the active cast from the bidding up on the web application, looking for comparisons of the internal structure with what little they're showing on the live feed, after examining the sidedoor she'd used for an access point to check for security cameras.

The mob's decently armed. It's the Scatelli's main front and they keep a wary eye out. But they're looking for other mobsters. Gangsters, strongarm attack teams. A driveby shooting, a sniper, an armored car, these things they're prepared to deal with. Contingencies both visible and invisible. They could even hold off a small military unit with some effort, for a time.

A single infiltrator as expertly trained as Finesse? They don't stand a chance. It takes her little time to hack her way into the system and compromise it. The mob's network security isn't exactly secure. It takes little effort for her to compromise their entire security camera system.

Mike whistles tunelessly and heads towards the rear of the cannery. It's where larger fish were deboned and gutted, which makes it a convenient place to store captives who might get shot resisting. A fat gangster with a shoulder holster is reading the paper when Mike walks past him into the row of butcher rooms, and barely grunts in recognition as motion passes him.

After all, who'd be stupid enough to try and free someone in the heart of the mob operation?

Another set of footsteps follow Mike, after a full minute, in perfect synch with the casual gait that Mike himself carried. Just another gangster, here. Nothing to look at, paper-boy. The footsteps stop, just in front of the fat man, the athletic female stopping in front of the paper. A second later, the escrima stick is brought forward, into the paper and smashing, hard and mercilessly into fat-man's face.

No quips for Finesse, no smart comments, or even talking aloud to herself. Only controlled silence, past he noise the paper made and the smack of stick-against-head. She leaves the unconscious body where it lay, and moves to follow in Matt's trail. She checks her phone again, verifying the feed and the bidding war is still ongoing.

She moves now a bit quicker, stepping with careful control one learns in the gym floor to tip-toe as quickly and balanced as possible - but with her suit, and boots and flawless execution it also eliminates almost any sound. Escrima stick, meet the back of Matt's head.

Finesse catches the body, sets it aside. And then, picks up once again Matt's casual walk. And this time? Copies, perfectly, his tuneless whistle.

Jen hears the boots. The steady tread of a heavy foot, the whistling. She knows how this game works and the petite meta scrambles to her feet as best she can. Immediately, Jen regrets it, and nearly collapses against the wall for balance. Light flickers and flashes in her eyes but nothing more than sparks seem to manifest for her.

"Shit. Shit shit shit," she hisses. Jen casts around for a weapon, finds none. Improvisation isn't her strong suit. The best she can do is plaster herself at the wall near the door, hope he blunders in and she can kick his knee out or slip past him and then…

Well, 'then' is a problem for Future Jen. The door opens and she woozily arms a kick, a brute-force and ugly stomp that's as effective as it is simple. Big men have such fragile knees. She launches her foot forward the second motion eclipses the doorframe.

Finesse is no 'big man', and so it's easy for her to react with peak human reflexes and catch that foot and latch onto it to lock it into place. She lets the foot drop, then, she looks around, asking simply, "How many are there here? I have already incapcitated the guard at the side entrance, the one sitting outside the hallway, and the one walking the hallway." She already knows, or guesses, the feed does not have sound. She never heard any, and it wouldn't do for mob secrets to be broadcast online.

Jen was not expecting that. She falls backwards and lands flat on her ass with a pained squeak. The meta gapes up at Finesse, struggling to process this change of events. She sure doesn't *look* like a gangster.

Screw it, what's life without risk? "Dunno," Jen slurs. "Got hit in th' head. Think they slipped muh some drugs or somethin'. Can't think straight," she admits. "Efrythin''s blurrry. You wif th' cops?"

"You have been drugged," Finesse assesses, matter-of-factly, with a nod. She considers her options, then she walks up to the video feed camera, and stands, imposing, in the center of the picture before she simply slams the escrima stick into the webcam.

"They will be arriving momentarily." She begins to work at Jade's bonds, untying, unlatching, and unbuckling her from her confines. "You are in no condition to fight. I am going to need to dismantle them from within, before you can leave. Do you understand?"

"Disman'le 'em?" Jen shakes her head. "Whaaever you goha doo, I guesh— wait! Don't leave me in here!" She rises unsteadily and lurches towards the door. "Fuckers took m' coat and pants. Perverts," she growls. She's shivering badly and hugs her arms to her chest while moving in Finesse's wake. "I gotta… I gotta fight or somethin', gimme a gun or a knife, lemme cut a bitch if they com'n affer me agin."

Of the many adjectives that would describe Finesse, 'compassionate' is not among them, sadly. "Presently you are a liability to me. One of them will have a counterserum, which is usually batched with the sedative they have given you to keep you dull and slow." She asseses Jade with a blank expression, "I will find it."

Jeanne moves back into the hallway then, but does not lock the door behind herself, perhaps believing Jade will understand and keep where she is, while Finesse goes on the prowl. Her first place to search is Matt's unconscious body, a quick pat-down, while keeping an eye on the hall at large, and listening for voices, movement. They -know- she's here now. She's shut down their bid, and likely most of the dark web bidders have long since gone thinking a police raid is incoming.

Luckily for her, Matt has it. She hurries back to where Jade is - whether that is in the room or outside it at this point is inconsequetional. And, she simply stabs the needle into Jade's arm - medically precise, but the sort of stab one might give a person in an emergency rather than the gentle insertion of a bed nurse.

Jen's not really aware of the injection until the pressure's applied. "—mother FUCKER!" Jen curses loudly and tries to yank her arm away, but Finesse clearly knows how to fight a recalcitrant patient. She staggers against a wall and wipes at her face as the fog melts away. "What the shit, did you just dose me with heroin? Fucking dirty rusty needles, I'm gonna get a tetanus shot…" She shakes her head twice, eyes going from a dirty agate to something clean and nearly viridian. In less than a minute, she's looking sharp and alert. And *angry. "Okay, that's helping," she admits. "What's your name?" she inquires. Jen shivers again, hugging her arms. "I need some pants or a … coat." She blinks and closes her eyes. Emerald energy shimmers along her body and encases her in something fluffy and warm. It looks like a fur-lined parka, except it's entirely translucent and green as her eyes. "Oh, hey. That worked," Jen says, looking surprised. "Okay. So what's the plan to get out of here?"

Non-pulssed by Jen's tendency for colorful language, "Finesse," she answers simply, concisely. "I was searching the dark web for criminal activity and saw you there. I recognized you from the assassination attempt three days ago. It was not hard to put the pieces together." She does not seem too surprised, either, when Jen makes her own clothes out of nothingness. Afterall, she made a fist out of nothing. Beyond a partial raise of her brows from her domino mask, she indicates nothing else, instead turning on her heels. "I suggest we leave."

Finesse withdraws a burner phone, dials 911, and tells the operator, "Cannery on 10th and Springfield. Get there fast. Or all your evidence for Scantelli will go down the drain. Kidnapping. Drugs."

She drops the phone on the ground, leaving them able to trace the phone as she begins walking down the hall, the same way she came in. "We leave. Quickly. Before the police arrive."

"Shit, I remember you know. 'Finesse', what kinda name is that?" Jen presses. She stays close to Finesse's side, though, enough to be a nuisance to the other woman. "You got a real name or is that's what is on your business cards?"

She moves quietly enough, though. Jen's not going to betray their position if she can help it. Unfortuntely, the sabotage of the security systems is producing its own result. Individual guards are starting to leave their comfortable posts and ramble around to find the fault with the system. Weapons holstered, not looking terribly alarmed or suspicious— yet. Jen shivers and steps closer to Finesse, almost hiding behind the woman. "How do we get past them?" she asks, worried.

Finesse watches Jen for several silent moments before stating, "We take them out." Clearly, Jen is not up to fighting, even if she can manifest clothing. Finesse pulls both escrima sticks off her belt, and begins to approach the two guards with a silent walk, exuding pure and unshakable confidence. Maybe it's because their guns are holstered, but she doesn't seem in a hurry, closing as much distance as she can until one of them spots her and shouts, "Hey! The bitch is free, and she's got a friend!" even as he and his partner start to move for those guns.

Finesse is already on them, though, and the shout is the last thing that thug will be doing for several hours as she starts running, and half-runs the wall in a form of parkour for three full steps and using that as a launching point for a headfirst roundhouse kick. As she lands and the second takes aim with his gun at her, her escrima stick is knocking behind his knee, and then into the pistol hand to upend him, and disarm in the same movement. A final slam of the stick into his forehead makes sure he won't be doing much else either.

Despite having seen Jen perform manifestation magic it doesn't seem to occur to her to ask the recently freed hero(?) to assist. "More are coming. That way." She points down the hall, where a fat man is slumped in a rather awkward and uncomfortable position with a newspaper draped over his face.

"Holy shit." When Finesse turns around, Jen gives her a look of awe. "Are you Batwoman or something?"

But then there's a *crack* of bullets and Jen screams, diving for cover. Smart girl. Survivor. She cowers behind a heavy steel file cabinet, wincing as bullets fly. The gunmen, having spotted the girls, start shooting with a lot of enthusiasm and not much accuracy as others advance towards the sound of shots fired.
@emit %r%tAccuracy or not, bullets flying are not something easily avoided unless one is bulletproof, or is superfast. She ducks for cover as well, considering her options. They do not seem to include Jen beyond: 'Get the kidnapped victim out of here'.%r%tShe snatches the gun from the ground, and fires several shots back at the men down the hall. She misses on purpose. But, having won several shooting contests in her youth the pistol and the deadshot is not so hard for her to complete as the bullets whiz a bit too close to the opposing shooters for comfort, forcing them, too, to go a bit more defensive.%r%t"They have the advantage on us. We will need to take a different route." She makes a motion for Jen to skitter over to her, which might require the woman to enter the crossfire. At least Finesse has significantly lowered that risk.%r

Accuracy or not, bullets flying are not something easily avoided unless one is bulletproof, or is superfast. She ducks for cover as well, considering her options. They do not seem to include Jen beyond: 'Get the kidnapped victim out of here'.

She snatches the gun from the ground, and fires several shots back at the men down the hall. She misses on purpose. But, having won several shooting contests in her youth the pistol and the deadshot is not so hard for her to complete as the bullets whiz a bit too close to the opposing shooters for comfort, forcing them, too, to go a bit more defensive.

"They have the advantage on us. We will need to take a different route." She makes a motion for Jen to skitter over to her, which might require the woman to enter the crossfire. At least Finesse has significantly lowered that risk.

"Great idea!" Jen shouts back at Finesse. "I'll just wiggle out through a six-inch wide drain pipe or something." She bites her lip and shakes her head with a wince as bullet smack close to her. When Finesse shoots back, she covers her ears with a cringe.

"Fine, fuckit!" She takes a breath and dives for Finesse with a pell-mell scramble of her green-bootied feet and dives into the cover behind the other woman, hugging her arms and feet close so she can't get picked off. "Okay, now what?!" Bullets rip through the wall overhead. "Fuck! Goddamn asshole grown ass mother—" She breaks into a highly vitriolic, even lyrical series of curses at the enemy who has them momentarily suppressed.

The last three shots fInesse shoots are into the pipes above the ceilings, above the heads of the mooks, … the lights above them spark and explode, snapping, popping, and careening down off one hinge towards the floor as one bullet hits a light-circuit, the other one of two supporting hinges while the first just missed it's target.

"Follow me," Finesse replies, urgently, and moves in the opposite direction, back down the hall they came from. She ducks -back- into the room Jen had been held in, and moves quickly behind the door. Her thinking? Either the thugs will go past them, or enter the room. Either way, they -are- going to persue, possibly call for assistance. But all they have to do is get past those two mooks, so far. They still have time.

"I am not Batwoman. I am Finesse," she says, gravely. "Now, be still. And silent. We only have one opportunity. Or this will get messy."

"One opportunity to do *what*, exactly?" Jen asks of Finesse. Fear drives frustration and worry in her voice, but she follows Finesse. "They've got guns. Probably molotovs or grenades or something. And I bet every good fellah from here to fucking Boston is on the way."

She jitters a foot in worry and at Finesse's look, snaps her mouth shut so hard her teeth click.

"Gimme one of those sticks at least," she whispers against Finesse's ear as she tries to make herself as flat against the wall as possible.

A random two shots coming down the hallway won't probably settle Jen's nerves any further, but Finesse does not seem to hear her request to borrow some of the vigalantees weapons. Nor, in fact, does Finesse respond to the inquiry as footsteps are heard. The door swings open, hard, and a gun sticks it's way into the room, before the body enters, one of the two checking out the room.

Just as the wrist passes the threshold of the door's edge, Finesse grabs the hands, twists it and pulls forward. Knee meets forehead, and then she jumps off her other planted leg. Her bent leg comes down as the other snaps up, falling hard onto the back of the man's neck, and crashing him to the floor.

The sound brings the second that'd been blocking them as FInesse rolls to one side, snapping her hand forward to throw the very stick Jen wanted to 'use' towards the man to hit his gun hand. She scrabbles forward, and a twist and a body throw later, the second guard is laying limply on the ground.

"Move," directs Finesse, stopping only to grab her escrima stick.

She points, "Down the hall, right, and then out the first door on the left. Go. I'll cover our flank."

Jen follows Finesse as fast as she can. Terrified, yes, but alert and responding to Finesse's cool assurance and unruffled calm.

And then a mafioso cuts loose with a machine gun from a balcony. It stitches a line of fire across the ground between the women, chasing Finesse. Jen shrieks and manages to get into cover in one of the rooms, but Finesse can only go one direction— a steel I-beam barely the width of her shoulders. Temporary security it is. Bullet skip metal spall of the iron and send chunks of old rust flying. The gunman reloads quickly and steps sideways to try and get a better angle on Finesse, out of range of even her prodigious ballistic sticks.

Jen grits her teeth at the fellow. She casts around for a gun. There isn't one handy. She ducks at more gunfire, covering her face with the sleeve of her jacket. She looks at it and an idea dawns on her.

"I'm gonna try something!" Jen calls to Finesse. Her eyes flash green as she draws her concentration into a fine point, blocking out all other distractions. An immense green buzzsaw big enough to park a car on springs into life, buzzing with an angry hiss. It sweeps left to right and severs the supports for the catwalk before disappearing. The entire balcony collapses downwars with a screech and clatter of steel. The machine gunner disappears into the debris with a choked off wail of pain but the endless noise of the collapse resonates for several minutes.

"…Holy shit," Jen breathes, staring at the destruction she's wrought. At least reinforcements are temporarily cut off.

"Effective," Finesse agrees, not even breathing hard yet. It's as much of a compliment as Jen will get out of her, presently. She gestures, "We need to go." In other words, no time to dwell on your awesomeness, just now. "More will be coming."

Having seen Jen's two prior manifestations, and now this third, she has an idea of just what sort of limits, or perhaps more accurately, what potential, Jen has. Sadly, there is a reason Finesse would never be a good Lantern, or wield powers of that caliber; she is too logical, too caluclating. Cunning? Yes. Clever? Absolutely. But imaginative? Not in that capacity. Still, she can appreciate it.

She moves out the side door, and towards the street now at a decent running pace, making sure Jennifer is keeping up with her. "Your manifestations seem to be unlimited in their potential. You should learn to utilize them to their full magnitude. Next time, someone as myself may not be able to find you." As much appreciation as lecture, Finesse doesn't wait for Jennifer's reply, moving to the next needed line of action. "My motorcycle is on the next block."

Police sirens can be heard, now, growing closer. "I will drive us away, and let you get off in the city."

Jen grins at Finesse, breathless out of excitement more than exertion. At least she's not huffing and puffing for oxygen. "I just was like, 'hey, what if that whole thing came down' and said 'screw it, I'mma try it', and then I DID IT and it /worked/," she says. She's babbling a bit and chasing Finesse as fast as she can move her feet. "Baby you can drive me anywhere," she tells Finesse with a fervent gratitude. She looks over her shoulder before climbing on the bike. She's a practiced passenger, tucking her legs where the exhaust won't touch her ankles and hugging Finesse to keep their mutual center of gravity as consistent as possible while the other woman's maneuvering.

The motorcyle is one of those sleek Japanese motorcycles, a pitch black Kawasaki, built for maximum speed and manuverability rather than status or that 'motorcycle' look that are so oft associated with Harley's and Indian's. Finesse jumps on, handing her helmet to Jen, and waiting for the green meta girl to get settled onto the back of the motorcycle before she guns the engines, taking off.

It's only 10 seconds later that police round the corner, sirens blazing, heading straight for the cannery as the two young women pass them.

Finesse says nothing on the next five or so minutes worth of drive, before she stops at a brightly lit corner, "Your stop," she tells Jennifer, while a few onlookers stare curiously at the costumed Finesse who doesn't seem to ring any bells. Let's face it, she's only been doing this a week - there's probably not even a newspaper clipping of her, let alone photos.

Once Jennifer is off, Finesse guns the bike after getting her helmet back and popping it on her head. It wouldn't do to get pulled over, on her way home, afterall.

Jen dismounts the bike and moves towards the handlebars, looking confused and a little distressed all at once. "Woah, wait," she tells Finesse, holding a palm out. Her hand turns over, an expression of gratitude. "You just saved my life, and you're gonna… just motor out of here?" She looks confused, but presses her lips into a line and leans forward a little to make sure she's got Finesse's attention. "/Thank you/. For saving me," she tells her. "I would have been up shit creek if you hadn't showed up." She frets her lip and pushes her tangled mossy hair behind one ear. "Can I … I mean will I see you again?"

Finesse squints under the visor of the helmet. This isn't how this was supposed to go. She's not sure what she's supposed to do, now. THe hero saves the person needing saved, and leaves. That's how it works. That's how it's worked the other times she's gone out and assisted people.

She answers after a moment, "I will keep patrolling. Perhaps you will see me then." It's the best answer she can supply, for now.

Jen stares at Finesse. The robotlike voice and lack of emotion unnerve the green-skinned woman and she steps back. "I… okay," she says, reluctantly. "I guess I will. Thanks, Finesse. I guess I'll… see you when I see you." A little baffled, she steps back and hugs herself again, making no more effort to detain her mysterious rescuer.

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